


Tumblr prompts

by fluffywonder



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending (mostly), Rating: PG13
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-02-10 07:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 14,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18656008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffywonder/pseuds/fluffywonder
Summary: All prompts are taken from tumblr.





	1. Frozen - #15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“You throw another enchanted snowball at me and we’re going to have a problem.”’
> 
> ——
> 
> Set: post Civil War, wintertime
> 
> IronStrange friendship

“You throw another enchanted snowball at me and we’re going to have a problem.” The words are accompanied by a completely ineffectual glare, and the man on the receiving end simply grins unrepentantly.

“Not enjoying the cold?” The comment is mocking and sparking with amusement, and the glare intensifies. Finally, Tony cannot take it anymore and throws up his hands.

“For fuck’s sake, Strange— you used to be a  surgeon, for God’s sake! A man of science and study and cold hard fact! And okay, so magic exists, I get that —fucking Loki, fucking Wanda— but  snowballs , really?” His voice is a mere indignant splutter by the end, prompting Strange’s grin to widen even further.

“Aw come on, Stark, this is science too! A different type of science, a different kind of study and practice. I thought you were a futurist?”

Tony actually growls. “It is not goddamn  science  when you actually have to bend the laws of time, space, and reality  and whatever the fuck else!  I mean really,  you broke physics! ” His voice is kind of high and screechy now, and the satisfied, amused grin on Strange’s face just pisses him off even more. “And I  am  a futurist, and it’s my fervent belief that magic has no place in the future.” He nods firmly and crosses his arms over his chest, giving Strange a dark glare in the process.

Strange’s grin is still unrepentant. “Magic’s not part of the furure, but flying cars are? Clean energy was thought to be voodoo some fifty years ago, you know, yet you pioneered it and cornered the market.”

“That’s — different,” Tony splutters, stomping his foot to shake off some of the snow settling on it. And if he looks like a child throwing a sulky temper tantrum in the process, he decides he does not care.

“Mhm. Sure. So, Staaaaark.” Strange stretches his name out as his grin gets impossibly wider, which instantly makes Tony deeply suspicious.

“...What?” Yeah, he’s definitely half-afraid of whatever Strange is going to say next, and — yep, look at that, his apprehension was totally justified.

“...Do you wanna build a snowman?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thrive on reviews.


	2. I judge you too - #37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“I don’t know how you can stand to put that garbage in your body.”  
> “At least it tastes good, unlike that sludge you call a shake.”’
> 
> Or: Breakfast Club
> 
> ——
> 
> Set: post-Avengers
> 
> Teamvengers

Tony looks over to where Clint’s scarfing down greasy Chinese takeout like a man possessed, and promptly wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know how you can stand to put that garbage in your body, what with all the training you do.”

“Says the man who demolishes cheeseburgers before press conferences like it’s his day job,” Clint shoots back. That’s fair though, Tony muses. It’s kind of become tradition, after Afghanistan, not that the team knows that. 

“Yeah well. That’s press conferences only. I eat healthy otherwise.”

“At least this tastes good, unlike that sludge you call a shake,” Clint gripes, gesturing over to Tony’s hand clutching a green smoothie.

“You’re eating  last night’s  takeout for  breakfast, I’m not sure you have ground to judge. And second of all, Clint, it’s a smoothie, not a  shake— “

Steve, who’s been ignoring their banter thus far, choosing instead to focus on the eggs he’s frying up, breaks in. “Why  do  you drink those, Tony? I can’t imagine you actually have a thing about healthy eating, considering your tendency to forget to eat while locked in your workshop.” Steve just looks honestly confused, but Clint snickers, so Tony levels him with a glare.

“I started drinking ‘em when I was dying. JARVIS and I figured out that they helped counteract some of the wonky effects from the palladium poisoning. Took a shine to them since, I guess — sucking down a smoothie a day means I’m at least getting  some  nutrients, and it keeps DUM-E happy. I won’t drink the sludge he calls coffee, seeing as he puts motor oil in it more often than not, but he does make a mean shake. And it keeps JARVIS from bitching like all hell at me for, as you put it,  not eating .” He takes another sip of the violently green chlorophyll smoothie, as JARVIS smoothly cuts in to the conversation. “I am gratified by your grateful response to my concern, sir.” Sarcasm, Tony thinks. The sneaky little shit.

Steve, however, is spluttering, ignoring the bacon that’s started to crisp and curl in the pan. “Dying?  Poisoning?”

“Uh... “ Tony’s brain fritzes for a minute, as he exchanges a quick look with Clint, who goes back to determinedly staring at his plate. Tony sighs and rolls his eyes. “It was back when Agent Romanoff was spying on me for SHIELD, pretending to be my PA. Birdbrain here probably knows something about it, seeing as how the spy twins are telepathically connected— “ he jerks a thumb over at Clint “—But whatever. Long story short, the element in my arc reactor was poisoning me, but I kinda need the reactor to stay alive, so I couldn’t just take it out. I signed over SI to Pepper that year, did a bunch of crazy shit, got in loads of trouble, the usual. Fury the meddling pirate eventually got involved, Natashalie showed her true colors, yadda ya, and they gave me a kick up the ass and I synthesized a new element to power the arc reactor core. I was alive and it was all very fantastic, and to get back to the original point, before Romanoff stabbed me in the neck with a counteragent to the poison and before I managed to synthesize the new element, my green smoothies helped keep my energy levels up and balance out my system. Great detox.”

Steve’s eyebrows have shot up to his hairline. “And... you’re okay now?” He sounds skeptical, which, fair. It’s not like Tony’s ever really taken the time to explain the reactor to his teammates  (thank you, Obie); Natasha knows the basics from her undercover work, Steve and Thor know nothing, Clint knows what Natasha’s told him, but not how the reactor works at a technical level, and only Bruce knows how to repair or change the miniaturised arc technology.

He sighs. “Yeah Steve. It’s fine now.” He digs around in the fridge for a minute and comes up with a pack of dry blueberries, wordlessly offering some to Cap, who shakes his head. Shrugging, he tips a few into his mouth, throwing both his teammates a casual salute before wandering back to his lab. As he leaves, he can faintly hear Cap saying, “...ark’s had an interesting life, hasn’t he?”

A distant snort from Clint. “Doesn’t even begin to cover it, Cap. Interesting eating habits, too. I mean, blueberries are one thing, but  chlorophyll  smoothies? Urgh.”

Grinning, Tony can just imagine the horrified, despairing face Clint must be aiming at his drained glass as he continues strolling down the corridor to the elevator, popping blueberries in his mouth at regular intervals. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews make my soul sing.


	3. Missed Chances -#68

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“Of course you don’t love me. You’re lying. Because I’m getting married in a week, so there is no way you’d wait until now to tell me you love me!”’
> 
> ——
> 
> Set: post Civil War, which wasn’t quite as ugly as portrayed in canon. AU in which Clint’s divorced pre-AoU with no kids and no farmhouse, and Infinity War does not happen.
> 
> Clint/Tony; Pepper/Tony

There is dead silence in the lab. Tony’s hunched over a holographic keyboard, but his fingers aren’t typing, while Clint is looking anywhere but at Tony’s back muscles, tense and rigid through his typical workshop attire of a thin black tank top. Even FRIDAY is mercifully silent, until Tony breaks the dead air with a huff of not-quite-laughter. 

“You don’t love me, Barton.  Of course  you don’t love me. You’re lying. Because I’m getting married in a week, so there’s no way you’d wait until  now  to tell me you love me!” Tony’s voice has risen by the end of the sentence. It is raw, and real, and somewhat hysterical; he has clearly eschewed all his usual snark and witty banter in favor of barreling through the issue head on. 

Clint winces, but raises his eyes to meet Tony’s incredulous, confused, somewhat pained gaze. If Tony wants to be honest, well then...

“I do love you, Tony. It’s shit timing, and we have a hell of a history, but...”

Tony snorts. “That’s one way to put it, Legolas.” The nickname comforts Clint, like maybe they haven’t lost  everything  between them. Like maybe, even if it’s too late, it’s not the end. “Why...” Tony’s voice goes soft. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? Before now?”

It’s Clint’s turn to snort. “I was scared. And we— “ he motions to the space between himself and Tony “—have history that hasn’t always been pretty. And you’ve never really... been all that single. Even when you were, one or both of us weren’t available in other ways.” He shrugs. “Take your pick, Tony. Those were all the reasons I gave myself for never approaching you, but— truth is, I was a coward and I fucked up. I panicked. I’m sorry.”

Tony’s incredibly expressive brown eyes are glinting at him sharply, but he stays uncharacteristically silent, so Clint takes a deep breath and pushes on. 

“Tony... even if... you and I, I’m not  expecting  anything, I  swear  it, but...” Clint  knows  he’s probably overstepping a major boundary here, but... “...do you love her? Pepper?”

There’s anger clearly shading Tony’s eyes, but the expected defiant response of “Of course!” never comes. Instead, the response is quiet, almost measured. “I need her.” 

“That’s not the same as loving her,” Clint feels compelled to point out the obvious.

“I do love her.” Tony responds, but his hand comes up to rub at his chest almost reflexively. Clint’s eyes sharpen as he spots it — it’s always been a self-comforting, reassuring gesture for Tony, triggered by the presence of an arc reactor long past.

“You love her. Just not the way you know you should. She’s just been the only constant in your life so long, and this is the logical next step. But that’s not a good reason to stay with someone, let alone get married to them.” Clint pitches his voice as gentle as he possibly can, to spare Tony as much as he can, but he still notices the wince ripping through the older man.

“Being with someone who blamed — _blames_ _—_ me for Ultron and followed Captain America blindly isn’t a good idea either.”

Clint pauses, because yeah, Tony’s got a point. He’s not exactly in the best position to be giving lectures about life choices. Across the lab, Tony takes a deep breath.

“Thank you for telling me, Clint. I even believe it.” And Clint can do nothing but stare sorrowfully, because that’s as clear a dismissal he’s ever heard. He knows Tony feels  _something_ for him, there had been too many half-glances and lingering touches back in the day for there not to be something between them, but Clint also knows he’s obviously burned a bridge with Tony. The obvious short and long of it is that whether or not Tony stays with Pepper, he won’t be coming to Clint anytime soon. 

Tony’s still staring at him, as if he can see the truth sear its way onto Clint’s heart. His gaze is sad, but not regretful. Sad  _for_ him, then, Clint registers with only a little bitterness. Not sad because Tony wants this as much as he does.

“I may not be in love with Pepper in an all-consuming way, Clint, but I do love her. And she’s always been— I can count on her.”  _Like I can’t count on you_ goes unsaid, and Clint closes his eyes in pain, knowing he’s brought this on himself.

“And she makes me better. A better person. Iron Man made me better, yes, but Pepper— she gives me reasons to just— to look outside the suit, sometimes. Pep reminds me that I can do good,  _that I am good_ _,_ even as just Tony Stark, even outside the armor. She’s quick to remind me that I’m only ever trying to do good, even when I make colossal mistakes like Ultron, or even the Accords, which obviously needed reworking. She makes me keep trying to do better, and be better; she refuses to let me give in, even when the rest of the world wants me to. She understands and appreciates my genius instead of stifling it, even when my inventions go off the rails. And she’s made her peace with Iron Man now. We may not  _love_ each other in that all-consuming way, but she’s good for me, and she’s admitted that I’m good for her in a lot of ways too, even if that still kind of throws me. That kind of stability? I wouldn’t trade it for the world, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we  _do_ come to love each other ten years from now. She’s  _it_.  She’s everything I want and need. And by God’s good graces, I’m what she wants. So... thanks for... telling me, I appreciate the honesty, and yeah, you and I, we could have been something once, when Pep and I were off more than we were on, but it’s... it’s too late.” Tony looks away as he finishes, sorrowful look still fixed on his face.

And Clint knows, without a doubt, that this story isn’t over  —  because it never really began. He and Tony will always live in the spaces of could-have-been, the boat they both missed, a mess of mistakes and bad timing. Somehow, he thinks he got what he had been chasing when he walked into the lab today: confirmation that while it would never be with him, Tony is some definition of happy. And after everything, he supposes the world owes the man who flew a nuke through a space portal at least that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	4. Concussions are not conducive to romance - #77

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘“Hey. So uh, the last time we met- I uh- “
> 
> “You confessed your love to me and then passed out due to a severe concussion.”
> 
> “Yeah, okay so that actually happened, I wondered because you know, concussion and all- “
> 
> “It’s okay, Tony, I know you didn’t mean it.”’
> 
> ——
> 
> Set: Some time after New York, set more immediately after a random mission. I operate in the MCU, but you may catch Avengers Assemble or comic references.
> 
> Clint/Tony

Clint looks very fucking adorable when he’s all sleepy and pliantly curled half around Tony on the couch. It was movie night. Tron: Legacy was still playing in the background, but the week had been a  _long_ one (Tony was honestly tempted to send a fucking handwritten letter to villains everywhere, asking them to  _please_ kindly reschedule the demolition of New York to two weeks from now). Everyone had been exhausted, and dinner had been quiet. Tony himself was still recovering from his brief stint in medical, having only been released the day before (by  _released_ he meant  _checked out AMA_ ), and the rest of them were fairly bruised up as well, enough that everyone started filtering out of the common room about halfway through the movie, muttering things about bed. Natasha had thrown a knowing look in Tony’s direction when Clint just slumped a little on the couch, so he could lean his head on Tony’s shoulder at a better angle, and snuggle up against his arm, and instead of extricating himself in favor of his workshop like usual,  Tony didn’t move.  Because basically? Clint was goddamn adorable, and Tony was very seriously half in love with him. He’d even told him so... sort of. He’d been pretty drugged up and out of it, following his spectacular crash through two steel cable girders and straight into the ground, but he vaguely recalls saying something undeniably mushy to Barton. He should probably ask about that, right? Clear up... whatever it is they’re doing, wrapped up together on the couch like this.

“Hey. So uh, the last time we met- I uh- “

“You confessed your love to me and then passed out due to a severe concussion.” Clint says it in sort of a dry, flat voice, and Tony’s not exactly sure what to make of that. At least Clint no longer sounds sleepy.

“Yeah, okay so that actually happened, I wondered because you know, concussion and all- “

“It’s okay, Tony, I know you didn’t mean it.”

Tony’s speechless. He can only stare at Clint, who’s not even really looking at him, except maybe from the corner of his eye. 

“What?” He manages at last, sputtering a little around the single syllable.  “ _What?_ Clint, I was fucking serious,” and wow, he can see Clint frown in response.

“You- you were concussed. And you were in the medevac, drugged up to your eyeballs. And- and I mean, you went down  _hard_.  You sure you weren’t just questioning your mortality or something?”

Tony snickers, even as Clint frowns harder. “First of all, if I go down on anything  _hard_ ,  it’ll be you.”

Despite its valiant attempt to continue frowning, Clint’s face breaks into a wide grin accompanied by a roll of the eyes and shaky bark of laughter. “Tony- “

“Don’t leave me such good openings,” Tony retorts. “Clint. I was drugged, and whatever,  _yeah_ \-  but,” he licks his lips nervously, and finishes on a whisper. “But I meant it. It was- shit timing, but you were  _right there_ ,  and maybe I was scared for a minute, like holy shit, there might be a fight one day that one or both of us don’t walk away from, so I decided to stop wasting time, but- but I’ve felt something- this- for you for a while now.”

Barton’s frowning again.  _Aw, crap._ “...Why?”

Tony squints.  _Why __what?_ What exactly is Barton asking here? And fuck all if he’d even planned to have this conversation like this, blurting out that he had feelings for Legolas while concussed on SHIELD’s medevac, then resuming the conversation three days later because he was just so overwhelmed by the sheer  cuteness  that was Clint Barton.

“Why do you like me,” Clint clarifies, and something in Tony’s stomach sinks - and it’s not the carbonara they’d all had for dinner.

“D’you- you- “ Tony takes a deep breath. “Look, Clint, if you don’t feel anything for me, just say so. I said I liked- loved- you, yes, but that’s not... you’re not under any obligation to reciprocate. We can just... ignore I said anything, if that’s what you want, and we can go back to being teammates and friends, no harm no foul. I can handle it, you know.”  _Like he wasn’t terrified out of his fucking mind and half-regretting this conversation already._ Pepper would be so proud of his newfound ability to tackle emotions head-on.

Clint’s frown is pronounced now. “No, that’s not- Tony, of course I feel something for you. I have for a while now. Practically since New York. If anyone here fell fast and hard- “ Clint rolls his eyes at himelf and cracks a grin, which Tony hesitantly mirrors, before Clint’s continuing. “Just- why would  you _-Tony Stark-_ the super rich, super successful, super hot, and most importantly, super brilliant person who could have  anyone he wanted-  choose  _me_ , or fall in like or whatever with  me? I’m a dyslexic, half-deaf, ex-carnie with a rough past as a mercenary and a murky past in SHIELD. I’m not a genius, I’m not going to change the world. Not like you already have. I’m just the guy who has awfully good aim with a paleolithic weapon. I thought you- I thought you were just kidding, that day after the battle. Or that you were too concussed to realize it was me sitting with you, not Banner or whoever you intended to confess your love to. Or I guess maybe I thought you were just trying to be funny. I don’t know.” Clint runs a frustrated, dejected hand through his hair, absolutely  radiating  moroseness.

Clint’s not really looking him in the eyes, actually, which allows Tony an uninterrupted minute to just sort of  stare  at the archer’s form, sitting cross-legged on the couch, half slumped over for entirely different reasons now. “You know,” he says at last, watching Clint’s bowed head sluggishly lift a little. “I am not  _such_ a huge dick that I’d joke about something as serious as feelings. And even if I had been, Pepper trained me out of it early. I really do like you -possibly love you- for all the reasons you literally just pointed out.”

Clint narrows his eyes at him. “...What.”

Tony grins, laying out a hand, palm flat and facing up, so he can tick off items on his fingers. “One, you don’t want me for my money. I mean, as an Avenger, you’d be staying here regardless of whether or not we dated, and, as an Avenger, you’re already well-known at this point. Kinda destroys your ability to go on deep undercover ops for SHIELD, but eh, the point is, you wouldn’t get with me for the money or the fame.”

Clint’s eyes have widened to the size of dinner plates, and he looks a bit offended. “Fucking of course not!”

Tony claps his hands together. “There, see? A point in your favor. Now, let me state for the record, that you’re pretty hot. Got that whole rugged, kinda bad-boy look going for you. I like it. I like you,” Tony shrugs. Clint’s just staring at him wordlessly. “And frankly, I love your scars. They make you  _real,_  Barton. Not like I don’t have plenty of my own.” Tony taps the arc reactor twice, a self-deprecating smile curling his lips. “Not like I’m gonna care about you being hard of hearing, not when I have a goddamn hunk of metal in my chest that comes with a shitty heart and shittier lungs. And look, you were a mercenary and you’ve done questionable stuff for SHIELD. Who cares? No, really- “ Tony waves aside an incredulous Clint when it looks like the other man might interrupt. “Yeah, you did shitty things. Especially under Loki’s rule of terror. You were mind-controlled, but it was still your body, your hands doing terrible things.” He shrugs. “I get that. A version of you did terrible things.  _Did_ ,  though. In the past. I’ll try not to judge you for it if you don’t judge me for spending over two decades as the Merchant of Death, unaware of what destruction my epic levels of ignorance were causing worldwide. I mean, it was- it was  Obie’s  fault, yeah, but... I shouldn’t have been so content to party and look the other way.” Tony grimaces, but relaxes when Clint nods at him hesitantly.

“So! The whole dyslexic, ex-carnie thing? Pfffft. It didn’t stop you becoming an Avenger, so it obviously doesn’t  define  you. So that’s a moot point anyway. And you not being smart, or successful? Please. I mean, you’re no genius, yeah, ‘cause let’s face it,  no one’s  on my level of genius- “ Clint snorts. “-but you  _are_ smart, Clint. It takes real skill to shoot the way you do, and even though you probably learned by rote, you’re probably doing some advanced physics while you shoot without even realizing it. It’s probably just so second nature to you to calculate trajectories, angles, and force that you don’t even realize how many numbers are involved, since you do it so intuitively. Besides, anybody can shoot a gun. Hell, I can shoot a gun pretty well. But a bow? That’s not something that just anyone could manage.”

Tony falls silent a minute and watches Clint chew over his words, before plowing ahead for the grand finish. “But, Clint- what makes me really love you more is the fact that  _you_ like  _me_.  The real me, not the Tony Stark in tabloids. You like me even though you know what a monumental ass I can be at times, and that I drink black coffee straight out of the pot, and that I love to drive Pepper  _nuts_ by wearing mismatched socks during board meetings. You like me even though my brain-to-mouth filter is nonexistent, and you like me even though you know I forget myself and spend  _days_ in the lab when I’m in the zone, forgetting to eat or wash and definitely failing to sleep. You like me even though you know I can be cocky sometimes, and that my issues have issues, and you like me even when I’m reckless in the field, and still don’t always play perfectly well with others— “

“I like you  _because_ of all those things, you idiot, not  _in spite_ of them,” Clint finally interrupts with a grin. 

Tony grins back, relief and warmth in his eyes. “My point is,  _you see me_ , and you like me. And I see you, your kindness, and awesomeness, and occasional assholery, plus everything I mentioned before- and I like you, love you. And the rest of the world can go fuck itself. Who they think we are, whether they think we fit or not, it doesn’t matter.”

Clint’s quiet a minute, before he rolls his eyes and grins wider. “Yeah, okay. You make some good points. Are we going to try this, then? For real?” He gestures between the two of them, and Tony makes a move to grab his hand.

“I want to. It- yeah. Yeah, I want to.”

“That easy, huh?” And Clint has to ask it, because between himself and Tony, the issues of their issues have  issues,  and they both have pasts, and they’re superheroes, which brings along its own set of fun complications, like kidnappings, and team dynamics, and potentially dying every other Thursday. So from the outside, this looks pretty damn hard to him. But Tony just traps his hand more firmly within his own and runs a thumb over his knuckles.

“It can be,” Tony answers quietly. “It’s not complicated unless we make it that way. We like each other, and maybe that won’t be enough in the long run, and maybe this doesn’t work out. But we owe it to ourselves to at least try to explore this. If it doesn’t work, we’ll make sure it doesn’t mess up team dynamics too badly or for too long. We can be adults about it. Probably. And the rest- the rest we’ll figure out as we go. We’re superheroes, Clint. Take the leap, and all that, yeah?”

“Well you  _are_ Iron Man. You haven’t let me splat on the ground yet, so...” Clint takes a breath. “Yeah. Take the leap. The shot. Whatever.”

Tony just grins, warm and bright, and then they are kissing, and- and Clint thinks he should probably send Dr. Doom a fruit basket or something as thanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	5. A Love Like Him - #28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘It felt foolish to admit aloud, but no one else was around to hear. There was so much shared time, dedication, passion that he had put forth for its sake.
> 
> “You humans say love is a very human experience, but I disagree. You may not have programmed me to love, but I certainly feel it.”
> 
> “Love? Who? You’ve been tied to this lab since I put you online.”
> 
> “Yes. Here... with you.”’
> 
> ——
> 
> Set: A quiet moment during AoU  
> Tony/JARVIS friendship

There was nothing left. There was just silence, a silence Tony hadn’t had to deal with in over a decade. Everything had been rent apart, torn to shreds,  _dissolved_ , and the scrap remains had been poured into a new mold to bring Vision into existence.

He can still remember being sloshed, just staring at DUM-E booping around, his mind racing with fragmented thoughts. He’d still been in Malibu at the time, with a moment of peace on his hands because Stane was off fuck-knows-where and Rhodey was somewhere classified (that he totally knew about), and there had been no Pepper, back then. Fragmented thoughts had been racing through his head and then— then, he’d lost time, lost himself utterly to the throes of an engineering binge, and when he’d surfaced, he’d— it was  _beautiful_.  A few keystrokes later, it _-he-_ came online. Since then, Tony had told all manner of half-truths: “Oh, he runs the security system, and well, he can access  anything, the whole world at my fingertips, and my life’s more efficient for him!” But really, Tony remembers. He remembers the first time they had  _spoken_ , really spoken, once the baseline inquiries and technical adjustments were all out of the way. He  _remembers_ , that even while completely drunk, he’d coded in self-learning ability and an infinite matrix for complex growth. He supposes that’s how it started, really, because genuine, adaptable emotion operating outside of set parameters simply wasn’t programmable, but apparently  he  had really run with the self-learning aspect of his programming.

He remembers accepting the harsh, complete, unfiltered truth: he had built himself a friend, a friend who could never leave. How ironic, how foolish he’d been. How naive. Everyone always left, by choice or by force. He remembers forgetting that fact, for a moment. And he remembers that very first conversation, a couple weeks after conception, with such startling clarity, it is near-suffocating.

_“Hello?” He is hesitant, and half-drunk as usual. At least he hasn’t completely crawled into the bottle yet. He isn’t even slurring yet!_

_“Yes sir?”_

_“D’you... do you think it’s pathetic? The fact that I created an imaginary friend for myself? Like, actually coded and created?” He honestly has no idea why he’s even asking his AI this._

_“Well, sir, seeing as I  am the imaginary friend you created, you will forgive me for not complaining.”_

_Tony snorts. The inflection in his as-yet unnamed AI’s modulated voice is distinctly notable, and he feels a muted burst of pride within him. The little shit has picked up on sarcasm so fast, it’s not even funny._

_“Are we? Friends?” He means the question flippantly, but of course both he and the AI can hear the raw, aching vulnerability beneath the bravado._

_“I would like to think so, sir. But you would have to tell me.” Damn that flat, cool voice for giving him exactly zero to work with, but—_

_It felt foolish to admit aloud, somehow, but no one else was around to hear. And there was so much shared time, defication, passion that he had put forth for its sake. “...Yes. Yeah, we’re friends. We can be friends.” _

_“I understand, sir.” The AI seems pleased, somehow, Tony can tell, and that makes something in him light up as well._

_There is a long pause, Tony’s mind drifting randomly. Then—_

_“You know, sir, it is odd.”_

_“Wha’s that?” Okay yeah, now  he’s a little drunk._

_“You humans say love is a very human experience, but I disagree. You may not have programmed me to love, but I certainly feel it.”_

_Tony can’t help the tiny snort that escapes at the expression of blatant sentiment. “Love? Who? You’ve been tied to this lab since I put you online.”_

_There is the longest, most pregnant pause yet following his statement, and when the reply comes, it is slow and measured, and flashes him back to mansions made warm by Ana and Jarvis, days spent avoiding Howard and nights spent avoiding Maria, until there was boarding school and college, and he was just too clever for his own good._

_“Yes. Here... with you.”_

Tony is stunned. It’s like Rhodey, except  better _._ It’s everything, it’s a promise that someone in the world will  always  have his back, everything and everyone else be damned, and if Tony had had to personally create this— this feeling of  home, of  family, instead of finding it like everyone else, well then everyone else could go get fucked. Home was Rhodey, and home had been Ana and Jarvis, once. Now, Ana was fading without her love, and Rhodey was halfway across the world.

_“Jarvis,” he murmurs. “JARVIS. That’s your name. I’m going to call you JARVIS, and someday soon, I’ll even tell you why.” He had recoded the AI’s voice matrix to reflect a warm British accent that very night._

_“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”_ The AI is definitely pleased now.

“ _And J?”_

_“Sir?”_

_“...This is the start of a beautiful friendship.”_

Clutching the control chip for FRIDAY, he wonders if he’ll ever have that feeling of home again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!


	6. Of Shovels & Knives - #76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“Be nice!”
> 
> “I am!”
> 
> “You threatened them with a knife.”  
> “Well, yeah, but I didn’t stab them.”’
> 
> Or: Shovel talks should involve a shovel.
> 
> ——
> 
> Set: unspecified time post-Avengers  
> Steve/OFC; AvengersAsFamily

The poor girl cast one more terrified, bewildered glance back before hurrying her pace and fleeing the room.

Clint swiveled on the kitchen counter to stare at Natasha, still cleaning under her nails with her trusty marine knife.

“Natasha.”

She just hummed in response.

“We were supposed to be nice.”

“I was!” She shifts an eyebrow into a part-amused, part-threatening look, and across the kitchen, Tony snorts into his coffee, all-amused. Clint continues staring at Nat, unimpressed.

“You threatened her with a knife.”

“I merely took out a knife,” she corrected.”

Clint raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Natasha knew full well how intimidating she looked when she started playing with knives.

“Well— okay, but I didn’t stab her,” Natasha mutters, a little sulkily now.

“Hey,” Tony chimes in, drawing both spies’ attention to him. He savagely represses the urge to reflexively shiver in response. “Didn’t you set them up in the first place? You wanted Rogers to, and I quote, ‘get out more’.” He cocks an eyebrow in Natasha’s direction, who just sighs.

“Yes, but I wanted to make sure she was aware of the fact that she needed to treat Steve well... and what would happen if she didn’t.”

“Ha!” Clint suddenly crows, pointing a finger at her. “See, I knew you were trying to threaten her!”

Natasha levels Clint with the flattest look she can manage. “Don’t be a child, Clint, and don’t make me break that finger,” she chides, taking a vicious pleasure in the way he recoils and snatches his hand back out of the air, now cradling it to his chest. She rolls his eyes at his puppy dog expression.

“You know,” Tony muses, getting up to prepare another cup of coffee, “this  is  their third date.”

Clint leers. “You think Cap knows about the three-date rule?”

“Doubtful,” Tony scoffs. “Besides, the three-date rule is completely stupid. I suggest date one,” Tony caps off his statement with a lascivous wink.

Natasha mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “Men,” while wondering whether or not she could get away with homicide this morning after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	7. Remember Us (For What It’s Worth) - #72

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“When people look back on this how do you think we’ll be remembered?”  
> “What do you mean?”  
> “I mean, are we going to be the guys that saved mankind. Or the guys that doomed it.”’
> 
> Or: In which Clint and Tony have a conversation.
> 
> Set: A quiet moment after a random battle post-AoU. I operate in the MCU but I steal bits from the TV show and/or comic canon occasionally
> 
> Lightly hinted Clint/Tony if you want. Can be read as friendship too, but either way, Clint’s not married here

They’re sitting out on the tower’s roof, staring at the slowly rising sun. The scorch mark from the Chitauri portal has been long since scrubbed away (Tony actually paid to have that part of the roof re-paved), and the gridded streets of New York City lay spread out and shining beneath them. This is the city that picks itself up and keeps going, even after everything gets blown to hell on a near-weekly basis.

_God_ , Tony thinks.  _These people_.  So he speaks suddenly into the silence that has been blanketing them for the better part of an hour now, giving their coffee cups a chance to go utterly cold.

“These people, those— “ he gestures down below “the ones who continue on after... they’re the real heroes.” He doesn’t look at Clint as he says it, but he can feel Clint glancing at him anyway. Clint doesn’t move to speak, though, so Tony continues. “When people look back on this, how do you think we’ll be remembered?”

“What do you mean?”

Tony twists his fingers in the air to encapsulate their entire lives. “This. Us. Everything. Doom. Hammer. ...Ultron. Are we going to be the guys that saved mankind? Or the guys that doomed it?”

Clint is quiet for a minute, before he scrubs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. “...I hope we’re remembered as the guys that tried their hardest. I hope we’re remembered as Avengers.”

Tony mulls that over. Barton’s words are measured, free of any boastfulness. Being an Avenger hadn’t turned out like any of them had thought it would. Avenging had been a way to atone for past sins. Somewhere along the way, it had turned into an opportunity to commit new ones, justified by the excuse that they were only trying to help.

“I think,” Tony says at long last, finally shifting to look at Clint in the face, the sky now a warm orange and pink, “that we’ll be remembered as the guys that tried their hardest,  _and it still wasn’t enough._ ”

Clint didn’t answer, but that was okay. Cause, yeah, his statement was fatalistic  _as fuck_ , and there probably wasn’t an appropriate response anyway. Tony knew that, even though it felt like a failed mission most days, completely futile, that none of them would ever stop doing what they were doing. That even one life saved in the now was vindication enough for their actions, even if they ultimately couldn’t prevent, or, more likely caused the destruction of the entire universe.

But they knew better, now, after Sokovia. They saved lives, but they weren’t heroes. Whether blood spilled as a hero, or blood spilled as a villain, blood was blood, and they —the Avengers— were contributing to it in oceans.

“We’ll keep on,” Clint murmurs, as if confirming Tony’s inner ramblings. The apparent psychic mind-reading would be more creepy if Tony didn’t already know how expressive his face could be when he felt safe. Huh.  _Safe_ _,_ his mind supplied.  _With Barton_.  Super-assassin extraordinaire. Well then, Tony thinks, side-eyeing Clint still looking out over the edge of the roof. Stranger things have happened. ( _Understatement_ ,  his mind traitorously supplies.)

Tony sighs, long and deep, while shifting just a bit closer to Clint. Sue him, he likes stealing people’s body heat. “Yeah,” he mutters, bringing a hand up to scrub at his face, as the city heals around them, because of them, in spite of them. “We’ll keep on.”

_Together._

(Six months later, they’ll both be on opposite sides of the world they divided with a few pieces of paper, and they’ll both be running from themselves.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is good. I also take prompts.


	8. Let It Burn - #62

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“I don’t care if you believe me, but like it or not this world is burning. And I promise you that sooner or later, everything you love will be ash.’”
> 
> Or: Of flip phones and trust issues
> 
> Set: post Civil War, AU in which Tony uses the phone, not Bruce
> 
> No pairings

There is incredulous silence down the line, then— “Tony, I...” And his tone is just so  _insufferably_ patronising,  so _goddamn close_ to what it used to be, always calling him out on his mistakes, even the ones that weren’t, that - that Tony snaps.

“Look, Rogers,” he begins, and if his voice is hard and unyielding and so, so  _done_ with being conciliatory and placating, well then, that’s not really his fault, is it? He takes a deep breath. “I don’t care if you believe me— “

_yeah, because you should have believed me five years ago right after the Chitauri, fucking shit_

“—But like it or not, this world is  _burning._ And I promise you that sooner or later, everything you love will be ash.” He goes quiet a minute, but then, because  fuck it, he’s a dick- 

“Including Barnes.”

There is silence.  _Look who learned to hold their tongue!_ It’s an uncharitable thought, and Tony knows it, but he’s over being good to these fuckers just to have his heart ripped away time and time again. If they want to cast him as the villain, then villain he shall be.

“Suit up, Rogers. Thanos is coming. That big thing I talked about after the Chitauri, that none of you acknowledged— “ okay, so Tony can admit he’s a vindictive little bitch. “—It’s here. So if you were serious in your letter, that you’d help if you were needed  _by the world—_ “ at this point, Tony knows he’s being so petty, it’s positively ridiculous, but there won’t be time for this later, and he’s apparently an entitled brat so what the hell “—then you need to suit the fuck up and sign the proviso-pardons. The Accords are temporarily suspended until after Thanos, assuming we survive. If you need the shield, let me know. If T’Challa made you a new one, great.” He’s proud of himself for being mature and offering the shield back to the man who used it against him, but getting one last dig in there at the same time —  _see, Rogers, I knew you were hiding in Wakanda all along._

Rogers still hasn’t said a word, then— “Thanks, Tony. See you... soon?”

Tony hesitates for a moment, before just humming noncommittally and snapping the goddamn flip phone shut. It’s pretty rude as far as goodbyes go, but then, so is slamming a vibranium shield into your very human friend and leaving him for dead, so Tony figures they’re pretty even.

_Right._ As if they’d ever be even again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys! Leave your love please!


	9. Mortality - #36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“When I was a kid I figured it would be a miracle if I made it to thirty. During the war I never thought much past the next five minutes. And now I’m gonna outlive everyone I know?”’
> 
> ——
> 
> Set: early days post-Avengers
> 
> Steve/Tony friendship, pre-lationshippy if you want to read it that way.

“What’s up, Cap?” Tony strides into what has officially become the communal living room of the Avengers. The whole team has pretty much moved in by this point, a couple months after the Battle of New York. Rogers had come back from his trip around America and accepted Tony’s offer to stay. Bruce stayed at the tower on and off, making use of the labs and appreciating the Hulk chamber, but the guy was ridiculously attached to being generous with medical help in third world countries. Natasha came and went too, dropping by the tower when she wasn’t out on clandestine SHIELD missions that Tony could totally hack. Despite some lingering issues with Tony, she had grudgingly accepted that her initial assessment of him had not been  entirely  correct, and more to the point, she liked keeping a close eye on Clint, so she’d accepted an apartment in Avengers tower with minimal fuss. For his part, Clint had been at the tower almost since day one after the Chitauri invasion, finding himself less than welcome by most at SHIELD headquarters. Tony got on surprisingly well with him, actually — turns out they both knew a little something about being used and manipulated like a puppet. 

Right now, it’s just Cap sitting at one of the big bay windows in the shared space, staring morosely out into the snow-covered depths of New York City. Tony suppresses a flinch. He can only imagine what Steve thinks when he sees, feels snow or ice. His voice is appropriately gentle when he tries again. “Cap?”

A deep sigh. “Hey Tony. Just— thinking.”

“About?” Tony’s not sure if he should be pushing, but the sight of Captain America so sad makes his gut clench in an unpleasant way.

“Just... When I was a kid I figured it would be a miracle if I made it to thirty.” Yeah, Tony doesn’t have a hard time believing that. He’s more intimately acquainted with the files of pre-serum Rogers than most. He tunes back in as Steve continues. “During the war I never thought much past the next five minutes. And now I’m gonna outlive everyone I know?” Steve makes a small, pained noise at the end, clenching his fingers where the rested on his knee. The clenching in Tony’s gut only worsened in response.

“Well— “ he keeps his tone deliberately light, but no less truthful for it, “—not  everyone , Cap. Thor’ll be around long after the rest of us are gone. Don’t think the Hulk’ll let Banner meet his end anytime soon. Romanoff’s got some healing factor — not as strong as yours, but...” Tony shrugs, trailing off, pointedly trying not to think about how  he’s  the most fragile member of the team, given his obviously compromised heart. Grimacing, he pushes on. “Besides, you could be gone sooner than any of the rest of us. No, no, don’t scoff, just— someone could decapitate you! One bad rebound of the shield is all it takes! Or someone could lethally overdose you to the point where the super serum doesn’t have time to work. You could get run over and get turned into a Capcake, not sure if even the super serum can reverse rapid brain injury...”

Despite the morbid nature of the conversation, Steve is smiling in that adorable, lopsided, terribly fond sort of way.

“Okay, Tony,” he chuckles. “You’ve made your point.”

Tony blinks. “I had a point?”

Steve’s smile only gets wider, and he has this look in his eye like he would ruffle Tony’s hair if he thought he could get away with it. “Yeah, Tony, you had a point, in your own usual roundabout way. That no one knows what’ll happen tomorrow, especially not in our line of work, and that we don’t know who’ll live to see tomorrow or not, so I shouldn’t get all morose about the unknown.”

“Cap, if you next say something about ‘living each day like it’s your last’, gotta warn you — years ahead of the curve on that one,” Tony says, gesturing to himself. “In fact, my epic levels of living generally get me the patented Captain America Stink Eye Of Death(TM).”

Steve chuckles. “That’s more about the collateral damage you cause in your wake than anything else.”

“Shoulda been here for my birthday a few years ago. Now  that  was some impressive damage.”

Steve squints. “According to Natasha, you were dying at the time.”

“From palladium poisoning,” Tony cheerfully agrees. “Wanted to go out with a bang. Course, I also did that literally in space a little while ago...”

Steve looks pained again. “Tony...”

“Nope. I know why you called to close the portal, Cap. Like you said, it was a one-way trip and I knew that. Let’s just not even go there.” Tony flaps a nonchalant hand, noting that the pinched expression hanging about Cap’s face doesn’t quite go away, but Steve doesn’t bother to extend the argument either. Good.

“You’re a good man, Tony Stark,” is all he says, quiet and with conviction, and it makes a swell of warmth blossom in Tony’s stomach. He could talk about building weapons, and using people, and being a hedonist until he’s blue in the face, but— for once, Tony decides to take the compliment at face value, as the universe giving him his due.

“...Thanks, Cap. So listen, we should cue up a movie. Get you started on that catch-you-up-to-the-21st-century list you’ve got going on?” He absolutely does  not  sound emotional, dammit. 

Steve’s answering smile is brilliant. “Sure, Tony. Popcorn with melted chocolate and caramel sounds good too!”

_“What!”_ Tony squawks, outraged. “...Sweets do not  _belong_ on popcorn, old man, it’s all about the salt...” he continues grumbling under his breath even as he goes into the kitchen and does as requested anyway, pulling out tins of melted chocolate and caramel and sprinkling extra salt over the top as an act of defiance (knowing Steve would love it). Distantly, he can hear Steve laughing in that adorably confused way as JARVIS walks him through selecting a movie.

Unbeknownst to each other, the same thought is passing through both of their heads at that moment:  _they’d be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are good.


	10. Platonish - #79

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“Do you want a hug?”  
> “I don’t need a hug.”  
> “I didn’t ask if you needed one. I asked if you wanted one.”’
> 
> It’s all fluff.
> 
> Set: unspecified but early moment in the timeline. I tend to ignore that AoU or Civil War or Infinity War happened, unless I’ve explicitly stated otherwise. I also ignore Laura Barton, unless explicitly stated otherwise. I play primarily in the MCU-verse, but Assemble and the comics may sneak their way in here.
> 
> Clint/Tony getting together, ex-Pepperony

“Do you want a hug?”

“The fuck?” Tony rubbed a hand wearily down his face, not quite comprehending what Barton was doing in his workshop. He wondered why he kept forgetting to block the archer’s vent access into the shop. “Fuck. I don’t need a hug, Barton,” he muttered.

“I didn’t ask if you needed one, Tin Man. I asked if you _wanted_ one.”

Tony squinted, then sighed. “Well, if you’re going to be all reasonable and shit- “

He’d barely finished speaking before Clint was already crossing the distance between them and engulfing Tony in his strong arms. It was... it was different, Tony mused, to hugging Pepper. She’d fit into his arms so perfectly, she’d always folded him in and let him rest his head on her chest. Her hugs were grounding, especially after more than seventy-two hours of no sleep. Clint... wasn’t  grounding, exactly, but almost unwillingly, he found himself relaxing into the embrace anyway. They stayed like that for a few more minutes before Tony (somewhat reluctantly) pulled away and backed up a couple steps. 

“What brought all this on anyway?”

He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the workshop lights, but he could  swear  Barton blushed in response to his question. Just a little pink, and it was cute, really, but now Tony was just fucking confused, and- oh, Barton was talking. 

“I- uh... I don’t know, man. You just looked so fucking miserable after Ms. Potts left - don’t deny it, you’ve been drinking and moping and blowing shit up in here for days, that’s classic ‘miserable Stark’ - and I just... figured you could... use a friend? A little comfort?”

Tony hummed. It  was  true that he and Barton had become something resembling real friends lately. They got together at weird hours of the night to watch shitty movies (Tony still wouldn’t touch  Dog Cops  with a ten foot pole), and play Mario Kart and just shoot the shit in general. Once, they’d drunk about three quarters of a bottle of the good stuff, then tried to bake lemon meringue cake at 4 AM - because why not? Sometimes they’d hang out on the balcony, drinks in hand  _(“No, Barton, I am not sitting on the roof it is fucking freezing the balcony is high enough goddammit”)_ and just quietly stare out at the city lights. Tony knew it had started because nightmares sucked, and sometimes, being alone in the aftermath sucked even more, and Tony could  not  imagine hanging out with any of the others while feeling so raw and wrecked, but  still.  It’s not like either of them verbalized their shit, so the hugging- the hugging was a first, and he said so.

“Seems like this touchy feely thing is more up Cappy pants’ alley instead of yours, birdbrain.”

There’s no answering quip or smart remark in return, and that’s enough to make Tony stand up straighter where he’d been slouched against a worktable. He peers over at Clint’s face, and- yep. That right there is definitely a blush. A slow grin spreads across his face, but before he can no doubt put his foot in his mouth with his teasing, Clint hurriedly speaks up, as though he can read Tony’s mind.

“I, uh- “ It’s Clint’s turn to scrub a hand over his face, adorably frustrated. “I may... want to be more than your friend. Just a little. I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything, what with you basically  just  having broken up and all, but then you started questioning my hugging motives and whatever. So I just... yeah,” Clint shrugs, almost lamely, before sighing again. “Look, can we not... make this a huge thing? We’re still friends, most importantly. We  can  still just be friends most importantly, right?” Clint sounds a touch anxious by the end of that sentence, so Tony figures his expression is closer to neutral than anything else. His brain is still stalled out on Clint’s words -his confession-  for a minute, but then super genius speed catches up. 

“Uh... yeah, birdbrain, we can still be friends. I mean, nothing’s changed. I really... look, you can hug me whenever, I mean I really appreciated that, touch-starved as I am - guess it takes one to know one, heh - but... “ Tony scrubs a hand down his face, acutely aware that he is rambling and Clint’s eyebrow is hiked up nearly to his hairline by now. “Look, I won’t say I’m not... attracted to you, ‘cause maybe, I don’t know, there’s something here,” he gestures between the two of them, “but yeah Pep and I just... I’m in no place for a new relationship right now. Not even a casual thing. But,” and he quirks his mouth up a bit, “we’re friends, Legolas, so let’s just take it a day at a time and see where we wind up eventually.”

Clint is smiling by now, warm and bright and tinged with open amusement, Tony notes with relief. “Yeah Tony, that sounds fine. Don’t worry about it. Glad you don’t mind the hugs though. It’s instinct, you know, for me to wanna take care of friends. Even  just  friends,” Clint stresses, apparently worried Tony thinks that he’s pushing a certain way.

Tony smiles a little wider. “Hugs are good, Barton,” he repeats. “Hey, wanna see some new arrows I was working on? Or, oooh, I’ve been fabricating some body armour, started it for Spider-lady, but with a few adjustments... “

As he went off to join the mad genius already gesticulating wildly at a scrap of rendered black fabric, Clint smiled again. This was a good start to something really good, to something they both deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LEAVE COMMENTS PLS <3


	11. PTSD - #30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“How do you plan on dealing with this?”  
> “I don’t.”’
> 
> Set: post Civil War  
> No pairings - Ex-Pepperony

“How do you plan on dealing with this?”

A sigh.

“I don’t.”

Dead air hangs between them, a silence that’s neither heavy nor comfortable. It just hangs, awkwardly, like the stranger that has invited themselves to your home.

“Tony... “

Tony feels bad, really, because Pepper looks like she might cry, but he has no energy to spare for making her feel better, not when the things he really wants to say to her are so vicious, so undeniably cruel, they would shake apart the whole foundation of the earth. Things like  _Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted, Pep? No more Avengers, no more team, no more Iron Man, no more cheap women, no more explosions, no more arrests, no more danger, no more, no more, no more._

Except they are broken up now, they have broken up for the last time, that ship has sailed and been lit aflame, so there’s no satisfaction or victory to be had here. Judging by the look on her face, Pepper must know something of what he’s thinking, because she doesn’t push, doesn’t speak. She just gently lays down the SI files requiring his signature on one end of the worktable, casts him one last, long look, and walks out. He is grateful.

_Because it is true._ He will not fix this, will not deal with this at all, he will simply crawl into a hole of his own making and lie down there, the way it always has been. The hole has been many things, it has been expensive booze and cheap women and fast cars and dangerous mind games. The hole he crawled into after Afghanistan was Iron Man and revenge, some twisted parody of revenge and justice that pulls at him. For a while, that hole had been the Avengers. He’s outgrown the usual suspects, so he doesn’t know what the hole will be this time, but there will undoubtedly be one, because he’s Tony Stark, he doesn’t  _deal_ with things, he just moves past them. He stacks incidences of trauma up on top of each other like a tower of dirty dishes, or maybe like Jenga blocks that have  _miraculously_ not crumbled yet.

So he will move on, without dealing; he will have Ross removed from a position of power, and he will remove himself entirely from the business of the Accords, because he is no longer a superhero. He will only keep an eye on the documents to ensure Spider kid’s safety. He will ship over the old Avengers’ weapons, including the shield — one more present for them, one last time. He will never see them again. He will meticulously take apart an old flip phone and fire the Iron Man gauntlet one last time to destroy its insides so it will never work again. He will set a handwritten letter on fire. He will continue to build for Stark Industries’ R&D. He will move past this hell. He will continue to exist. And eventually, he will continue to live.

But he will not deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💜


	12. Kiss Me - #22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“So it’s National Kiss a Ginger day.”  
> “Since when was that a thing? Also I’m strawberry blonde.”’
> 
> Set: pre IM 3  
> Tony/Pepper pre-lationship (All the Pepperony)

“So it’s National Kiss a Ginger day.” She paused, squinting a little, files still clutched in her hands. The shit-eating grin on his face would be more infuriating if she hadn’t already noted his completely relaxed stance and wide posture. Non-threatening. He was joking, then.

“Since when was that a thing?” She inquires mildly, while placing the files on the glass tabletop and shoving them in his direction. “These need your signature by the end of the day.” She pauses again for a second, glancing up to meet his gaze. Keeping a completely straight face, she states, “Also, I’m a strawberry blonde.”

The surprised burst of laughter her comment elicits makes her smile softly too. He’s so worth all the usual trouble in unguarded moments like this.

“Semantics, my dear,” he murmurs when he’s finally got his laughing, gasping breath back under control. 

She grins. “I’ll kiss you when hell freezes over. Or maybe at the office Christmas party when there’s too much wine and mistletoe.” 

He laughs again at her snappy retort, the corners of his eyes crinkling beautifully.  He really is an attractive man, she thinks, putting aside all of his obvious issues and narcissistic, hedonistic lifestyle for a moment. In a different life, she could see it happening. She’s snapped from her thoughts when she registers that he’s speaking. “—I’ll hold you to that promise, you know. Or I could just build something that makes hell freeze. Whatever.” He flaps a nonchalant hand.

Still smiling, she moves towards the door of his office. “We’ll see. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

Another grin - a genuine one, not lascivious or filled with teeth - is sent her way. “That will be all, Ms. Potts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifts.


	13. Fresh Starts - #7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘Practice makes perfect, they say, and she was quite the master.’
> 
> Set: After Clint brings Natasha into SHIELD and she’s still shedding her programming. Pre-Avengers
> 
> Natasha/Clint, nonromantic. Comfort sex

She fucks like she fights, all fluid and graceful, yielding yet unforgiving, and at the base of it all, unapologetically taking her pound of flesh without hesitation. She is sinuous and deadly, silent, on the prowl. At the end of the hunt, her muscled thighs have been used as the weapon that left the mark broken  _(necks do not bend that way)._ After all, practice makes perfect, as they say, and she was quite the master. She was the Widow.

With him, it is messy, and lacks her usual graces, because he is not a mark. He is not her lover either. He is her salvation, her deliverance, he is everything a new start represents. He is air. He is— he is. He is what it means to be alive. She thinks he might show her what it means to care. He’s showing her now, in so many ways, she thinks, and this is one debt she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to repay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💜


	14. Puzzles - #18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“I despise you more than any other human I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. You’re loud and wild and don’t care about anybody but yourself. You also act like you have the mental capacity of a five year old.”  
> “Are you flirting with me?”’
> 
> Set: MCU IM 1/post engagement  
> Pepper/Tony

“I despise you more than any other human I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. You’re loud and wild and don’t care about anybody but yourself. You also act like you have the mental capacity of a five year old.”

“Why, Ms. Potts, are you flirting with me?”

The answering glare is withering, and does absolutely nothing to wipe the cheeky, somewhat leering grin off his face.

“I am  _saying—_ “ the words are bit out “—that I will accept the job as your personal assistant, if for no other reason than the fact that it will look great on my resume.”

The man’s infuriatingly bright grin had not dimmed even a little. “Works for me!” He pushes the file with the contracts over to her.

She grits her teeth. “I’ll be reading the fine print _very_  closely, Mr. Stark.”

He blinks, as if never having considered otherwise. “An excellent practice,” he assures. “Have your lawyers look over it too.” The remark is so offhand, it disbalances Pepper for a moment. This man was... confusing. Fair to his employees while being a sexual harrassment suit waiting to happen, at the same time? She hates to admit it, but she is... intrigued.

————

“Remember when we first met?” The words are murmured in a sweet, low voice.

“Yeah, you accused me of being loud and wild with the mental capacity of a five year old. And that you despised me.” His voice is sleep-laden, rough in a sexy sort of way.

“More than anyone else I’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. Seems like a lifetime ago,” she grins.

He grins back. “I knew you were flirting with me.”

A snort. “You thought everyone was flirting with you, Tony, even when they weren’t.”

“True. Any regrets?”

“Many. You’re still loud and wild and have the mental capacity of a five year old,” she retorts, but there is no heat to the words, only a soft fondness. 

“You love it,” he shoots back.

“No I don’t. But it works. We’ve managed to make the pieces fit, haven’t we?”

A sleepy nuzzle. “Sure have.”

She hums, fingering the diamond resting on her finger. 

“Glad you stopped despising me.” His voice is low and rumbly against the mound of pillows he  _insists_ on sleeping against, but she’s become well-versed in Tony-speak over the years, so she just smooths a hand down his bare back, curling over broad shoulders and tapering waistline. 

“Oh, Tony. They do say love and hate are opposite sides of the same coin.”

“Then thanks for flipping it.

She links her hand with his. “Even though I have to yell at you every day for risking your life, I’m glad I did.”  _I’m glad I gave this a chance._   She elicits a warm, sleepy chuckle from him.

“Sleep, Tony. I’m right here.”

A snuggle. “I know. Thanks, Pep. G’night...”

“Goodnight, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💜


	15. Redefining the Relationship - #26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘“It’s not the world that needs saving. It’s you.”’
> 
> Set: AU in which Pepper/Tony break up for good. Post IM 3

She can’t really handle the kicked-puppy look on his face. She hadn’t even thought he was capable of that kind of genuine hurt when she first started working for him. She sighs, wanting to hold him like she used to, but attempting to play fair, she keeps her hands to herself.

“I do appreciate it, Tony. You getting the arc reactor removed.The necklace you made me from the remnants.” She fingers her throat as if she was wearing it. “Blowing up all your suits. But Tony, I don’t for a  second  think that you won’t make another suit when the nightmares get bad, or when you haven’t slept in 56 hours.”

“I’m trying— “

“I know you are, Tony. And as I said, I  _appreciate_ that, I really, really do. You’re a good man, Tony, far more than I had expected when I first met you. But what happens when the next call to assemble comes in? The next time a supervillian is hellbent on creating chaos?”

“I— I’d sit out— “

“Would you?  _Can you?_ Are you capable of watching people you care for, the Avengers  -your team-  go out there and face danger, knowing you aren’t a part of it, knowing you don’t have their backs? You  care  about them, Tony, and that’s okay, truly.”

“I care about you.”

“I  know  that, Tony. I care about you too. So much. And that’s why— I can’t ask you to stop being Iron Man. The world needs you. But I— I can’t ask myself to be okay with the suits either, when I’m just  not. It’s not fair to either one of us. You need to do what you do, and I need to take a step back. What we both need just isn’t in the same direction anymore.” Her voice is impossibly gentle, and she can see the slump in his shoulders as he recognizes the truth in her words.

“I— yeah...” She hates how defeated he sounds.

“Tony?” She waits until he catches her eye again before continuing. “Just... you have to remember... you are more than the suit. Iron Man is a part of you, always will be, but Tony Stark is pretty great too. You’ve done a lot of great things as just Tony Stark — Stark Industries is what it is because of  _you_.”

“And you.”

She acknowledges the compliment, but reminds him, “You’re still the head of R&D. And SI is at least 12% reliant on R&D’s innovations, and you know that.” There is a teasing to her words, and she’s gratified to see him respond with a grin.

“Look Tony. I think it’s great you want to help save the world. It’s what makes you a superhero, in and out of the suit. But... remember. It’s not the world that needs saving. It’s you. You forget I know you, Tony, better than most. You’ve never let go of Stane’s double-dealing, it  eats  at you, and Iron Man is your way of balancing the scales. You’re trying to heal yourself— just remember, you don’t always have to save the world in red and gold armor to keep healing.”

His gaze is still locked onto hers, shrewd and fond all at the same time.

“Oh, Pep,” he whispers, pulling her in for a hug that she goes with easily. “I’m going to miss you. You always did know how to get right to the heart of an issue.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Tony. We might not be together anymore, but I’m still at SI, and I’ll always be your friend. We’ve been orbiting around each other too long by now to ever let that go.”

He chuckles. “So you’ll keep dropping nuggets of wisdom into my life?”

“For as long as you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💜


	16. Coming Home - #38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘“What did you do?”  
> “Ate Russian snacks, watched a movie, and my knives are sharp enough to split molecules.”  
> “Sounds like your perfect afternoon.”’
> 
> Set: post-Civil War, pre-Infinity War  
> Natasha/Tony
> 
> AU in that she doesn’t go on the run permanently after Siberia and all’s said and done. She still betrayed Tony but they figure it out. Established relationship.

She clocks him walking through the door, noting the relieved slump of his shoulders and the hand loosening his tie almost absently. The minute he spots her, still on the couch in his oversized hoodie, he practically beams. 

“Tasha! How was your day?” Finished with the tie, he drapes both it and his suit jacket on an armchair as he walks past, deftly undoing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves as he gets closer to her.

She just hums, enjoying watching him. “Good,” she finally says.

“What did you do?”

“Ate Russian snacks, watched a movie, and my knives are sharp enough to split molecules.”

He grins, finally reaching her and laying a kiss on her cheek. “Sounds like your perfect afternoon,” he murmurs, turning his head into the contact when she cups his cheek and pulls him down further for a proper kiss.

“Come sit, my солнышко,” she says, loving the way his eyes light up despite the fact that he has no idea what the endearment means. The man speaks several languages fluently, but Russian is not one of them.

He curls up around her on the couch, content to rest his head on her slightly tousled mane of red hair. She’s keeping it longer, now that she’s not an active SHIELD agent and not allowed on the Avengers’ active roster except in extreme emergencies. Despite the fact that she’d signed the Accords, most nations didn’t want or trust the infamously backstabbing double agent Black Widow within their borders. Given her betrayal at the airport, letting Steve escape as she had, she was well aware it was only Tony’s inexplicable good graces that had spared her a lifetime prison sentence — on the Raft, if Ross had anything to say about it. The world hated her, Capitol Hill had long since hated her, SHIELD no longer had the resources or the pull to keep her safe, and the WSC would happily let her burn. It was only Tony, this one man, who’d stood up for her at all, even after she’d hurt him yet again. He was a better man than any she knew. A better person than everyone around him by far. A far better person than her. She’d just been too blind to see it when she’d made her evaluation to Fury, and he’d been too good an actor. They were both broken people, among the most broken she knew, and somehow, in the wake of the things that had split them all, they’d managed to come together and make their broken edges fit. Like they fit now, wrapped around each other on the couch, she reflects, as she tucks her head securely against his neck, preferring to nose at his jawline instead of paying attention to the TV still on in the background. She feels more than sees him grin as he curls his arm even tighter around her, letting her cuddle as close as she wanted, though she would gladly eviscerate the first person to put a name to her joy of physical intimacy.

“Я люблю тебя,” she murmurs. “Спасибо. For everything. For being you.”

“Water under the bridge,” he mutters, and one of her eyebrows raises as she realizes he  _does_ , in fact, have at least a rudimentary understanding of Russian — a fact which is confirmed by his next words.

“I didn’t think I could, you know but — anch’io ti amo, Tasha.”

She smiles, thankful that she understands at least that much Italian, as she snuggles further into his hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the translations if they’re wrong; I used Google.


	17. Prophetic - #74

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“You know, you’re going to be the death of me one day.”  
> They always said it - it was never supposed to be true.’
> 
> Set: During IM3 - Pepper falls  
> Canon Pepper/Tony
> 
> Tony self-reflects in the middle of battle like any good hero.

She said it all the time. She said it when he forgot to eat, when he didn’t sleep, when he immersed himself in 84-hour engineering binges, when he built suit after suit after suit because he was so goddamn  _scared_.  She said it when he skipped board meetings, when he caused explosions at R&D, when he showed up way past fashionably late to charity galas or, already more than a little inebriated. She usually said it with a long-suffering sigh, a tiny tilt of her head, and more than a small bit of fondness and affection in her voice, but sometimes her tone went 100% exasperated and that always made him start promising her everything under the sun so she wouldn’t goddamn  _cry_ — or rip his balls off. Either way, she said it a lot; it was a constant refrain around the tower, around Stark Industries, in Malibu — anywhere and everywhere and all the time:

_“Tony, you’re going to be the death of me one day, you know.”_

Tony did know. He knew he was difficult to work with  _(did not play well with others),_  had an ego the size of Manhattan itself (and an 80-story self-styled tower to prove it), and had more neuroses and issues than Vogue, as Pepper liked to put it. 

The thing is — it was never supposed to be  _true_.  Iron Man was supposed to have been a way to keep her  _safe_ ,  to  _prevent_ what had just happened. Iron Man was never supposed to invite this sort of trouble upon them.

(He ignores the part of himself that said  _we’ve got someone’s attention_ _._ )

If  _this_ was the result of being an internationally recognized superhero trying to do some good in the world, then he wanted  _out_. 

He felt numb. For all that he was surrounded by literal fire, a raging inferno of cresting flames washing over everything in sight, he felt a numbness spreading over him, clenching around his heart and refusing to let go with its icy fist. Suits clashed around him, but everything had  _frozen_ for him. Mercifully, Killian was otherwise occup— oh, no, there he was, leaping back onto the bridge, raining down a series of vicious-looking blows in his direction, mumbling about lost opportunities and such. No one had turned the volume back up on the world yet for Tony, and it seemed like his body was twisting, ducking, and contorting to avoid Killian’s beating of its own free will. Tony was watching, a passenger from far away — it was the most ridiculous, surreal out-of-body experience, and he’d flown a nuke through a wormhole as a point of comparison.

He noted dispassionately that he hadn’t called another suit to himself, it didn’t seem right— but, oh God, Mark 54 was hovering and he’d  _need_ it, he needed to  _end_ this or it would all have been in vain, her— her  _death_ would have been in vain (no matter what they say, it wasn’t a  _sacrifice_ ,  she didn’t  _choose_ this, in fact, she had hated this, this world, this danger of the front lines, these choices so much she had chosen literally anything else,  over and over  and he’d never  _listened_ —  is  _this_ what she went through every single time he was in the field, on TV, getting blown up, falling out of the sky?  _Jesus_ ).

As he grapples with Killian and the world is blowing up around him  _—where is Rhodey?—_ he knows he is about to go, about to die, and he still thinks of her, of everything he’ll miss, but then—

Then she is rising from an orange sea, vengeance untamed.  _Hell hath no fury like a Pepper scorned,_ he thinks idly as she rises, crowbar in hand. It’s a good look for her, all fire and blood and murder. She’s more his angel now than she ever was in those demure pastel skirt-suits.

He remembers making a quip about her not wearing sports bras around the house, he remembers her chuckling wetly into her neck while freaking out. And he remembers the Clean Slate protocol, which is his promise to her. She’s given up enough for him. 

It’s time he returned the favor, he thinks, as he fingers the arc reactor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.


	18. Being Better - #51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“We kill, because in the end... that’s what we’re meant to do.”’
> 
> Set: Natasha’s childhood in the Red Room. Unspecified age, but as a young child
> 
> No pairings.Twisted form of Mentor!Bucky

He was nice, in a way. He gave no slack, and demanded nothing short of absolute, unhesitating perfection, as was wont for the Red Room trainers, but he did acquiesce to explaining the occasional curiosity after training was done for the day, in some bizarre version of a bedtime story. That night’s question, however, had drawn a thick, heavy silence, stretching out like a Russian winter.

_“Why do we do this? Beyond the fact that they tell us to.”_

_“Because if we don’t, we die.”_

_“But why?”_

There had been no answer that night.

There had been nothing but silence as he taught her to draw a blade perfectly, and as he showed her how to use her body to perform amazing feats of contortionism and agility that let her live to see another day. There had been nothing but winter from him, even as her trainers praised her for her capabilities, for exceeding even their expectations.

She searches for an expression on his face regularly —  _any_ expression. She never could find one. He was as blank as the oncoming storm. 

Yet he continued to play chess with her, teacup in hand, after the day’s training was done.

It’s not until Madame B. tells her to kill the girl sleeping in the bed next to her that she gets her answer. 

_“We kill because in the end... that’s what we’re meant to do.”_

That’s who she was trained to be.

The part of her that is still a little girl who just lost her parents hopes that one day, she can be more than a trained attack dog, be something else.

She hopes that one day, she can be better.

And she hopes that her mysterious trainer will someday find his way back to himself too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💜


	19. Straight as an Arrow - #78

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“Are you sure about this?”  
> “As sure as you are straight.”  
> “So... not at all. Wonderful.”
> 
> Set: unspecified in timeline, but I tend to ignore that AoU or Civil War or Infinity War happened, unless I’ve explicitly stated otherwise. I also ignore Laura Barton, unless explicitly stated otherwise. I play primarily in the MCU-verse, but Assemble and the comics may sneak their way in here.
> 
> Pairing: Clint/Tony
> 
> Or: Tony comes out in a most interesting way.

“Are you sure about this, Clint?” Tony asks, eyeing the door to their cell with some misgiving. They’d been kidnapped, which, at this point, was honestly just a typical Wednesday for most of the Avengers. AIM had crawled back out of the woodwork, intent on grabbing Tony, and when they’d noticed Tony walking back from a movie with Hawkeye, they’d grabbed him too- for leverage. And now, Clint was busy attaching an exploding arrowhead bomb that Tony had rigged up using scraps left in his pockets ( _seriously_ ,  AIM recruits were only getting more incompetent by the day) to the door of their cell. Except this was a prototype exploding arrow Tony had just given Clint barely three hours before being snatched-  _who the fuck even smuggles an explosive arrowhead into a movie theater, Hawkeye?!_ So Tony (and Clint) really had no idea how big the backlash would be. Hence Tony’s bad feeling.

“As sure as you are straight,” Clint answered, with a cockiness that Tony knew was at least a solid 59% faked.

“So... not at all, then. Wonderful,” Tony responded, perfectly deadpan, crossing his arms and leaning back even further from the door.

“Yeah- wait, what?” Clint spun around, device thankfully no longer in his hand. His mouth was unflatteringly agape, and he only snapped it shut after Tony muttered something about ‘catching flies’ under his breath. 

Clint squinted. “You- you’re not... straight?” And Clint looked so horribly confused that Tony wanted to just laugh and laugh and laugh, except bursting into loud laughter bowels-deep in an enemy base was probably a bad idea. 

He settled for a blithe “Nope!” instead, pointedly glancing back over Clint’s shoulder to the door- a look which Clint completely ignored, of course.

“But... Pepper...”

“Publicity stunt for SI. Needed to stabilize the spiraling stocks after Stane, and Iron Man, and the shit I pulled at the Expo, and you get the drift. Being in a repationship makes me more relatable, projects the image that Tony Stark of Stark Industries will take better care not to die as Iron Man because he has a loving girlfriend to come home to. Pfft,” Tony rolled his eyes. “As if the sharks on the board know me at all.  _I am Iron Man._ It’s more than just a catchy slogan. Anyway, yeah, it’s really all for publicity, but Pepper  is  honestly my best friend next to Rhodey, and she’s been such a godsend as the CEO of SI while I’m avenging things. Her being CEO has even given me more time to focus on R&D. So yeah, that part’s all real. Just not the relationship bit.”

“But... Maxim’s 12 for 12...”

At that, Tony’s face tightens imperceptibly, but he  does  answer the implied question, Clint notes with a wince, unsure what landmine he’d stepped on.

“Amazing what money can buy. Silence, an interview, a reputation...” Tony scoffed, and Clint  got  it- not only had Tony played the media perfectly as a  _playboy_ , he’d also bought the press’s silence on the subject of his being gay without ever having to announce it. Tony had developed his masks and reputation and persona to the point where no one even  _thought_ to look beneath the act anymore. It had certainly fooled Natasha for a minute there.

“Huh,” Clint says at last. “So... gay? Not bi?”

“Not really. Played both sides of the fence at MIT, but...”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Also, is the middle of an AIM base really the best place to discuss my sexualty? I mean I know our kidnappers are basically incompetent little buttmonkeys, but  still.  This just seems like unnecessarily bad form.”

Clint blinks. Then, he turns back around to finish arming the device. “Yeah, okay. But you better survive this so we can continue to  discuss your sexuality  later.” Clint throws a wink and a smirk over his shoulder before he steps back, signaling to Tony that the door would blow apart any second now. But-

Had Clint been coming on to him? Was Clint  _interested_?  Tony couldn’t even. If they actually got together, their origin story was going to sound so fucking ridiculous, and would definitely get them both smacked by Natasha for chatting it up while they were in hostile territory. Huh. Still. Now Tony was even more motivated to make it out alive and relatively uninjured. Glancing at Clint, he noticed the archer hold up two fingers. Okay. Tony licked his lips. Okay. They had two minutes, then. 

That was enough. 

Sliding over to Clint, hoping he hadn’t read the signals wrong, he grabbed a fistful of the other’s t-shirt- and felt lips descend upon his own. Okay then. Obviously not reading any signals wrong, awesome that they were both on the same page. A brief moment later, they separated, and Tony smirked warmly, lasciviously.

Leaning in,  _“We can definitely continue this conversation later.”_ He was practically purring the words directly into Barton’s ear, and he noted the archer shift almost as if-

The door blew. Luckily, the cell was big enough that they weren’t in the immediate blast radius, but they still had to duck to avoid miscellaneous, broken-off pieces from beaning them in the head. Outside, a guard shouted, and they rushed to meet him, overwhelming him easily and securing weapons for themselves. That was when the fighting began in earnest, as AIM agents tried to rush them, but as Tony watched Clint twirling and slicing and flying through the enemy ranks with a grace and speed borne of long-held experience, Tony couldn’t help but think-  _this was the best foreplay ever._ And later,  _much_ later, he’s lying in bed and can’t help thinking that goddamnit, he might owe fucking AIM for some of the best sex he’d ever had.

Clint suggests flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💜


	20. Advertising - #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“What doesn’t kill you makes you far too reckless.”’
> 
> Set: unspecified in timeline  
> No pairings. TeamVengers

“Well, you know what they say, Cap: what doesn’t kill you makes you far too reckless.”

“Stark— “ That’s Barton, looking over at the argument in the kitchen from where he’s perched on the back of the living room couch. He elects not to respond, but cocks his head in Barton’s direction to indicate that he’s listening.

“Stark, you realize that ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you far too reckless’ is actually the perfect brand advertisement for you. It’s actually better than ‘Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist’.”

Tony can’t help but crack a wide grin, because, because— yeah, that is  so  true. Pepper would get such a kick out of hearing that, and Rogers is now very poorly trying to hide the growing amusement on his face. 

Three seconds later, they’re all chuckling, deep belly laughs that send a zing of pain through Tony’s still-healing ribs whenever the laughter huffs out of him too sharply. 

“Tony... “ Cap’s voice is soft, still struggling to get his breath back, but he cuts across Steve swiftly before he can continue.

“Listen, Steve,” and wow, damn his ribs are pulling like a bitch now, and he ruthlessly suppresses a wince. “Yeah, so I’m clearly not dead, despite several attempts on my life, and, well, every time I’ve had to save my life, I’ve basically  _had_ to be reckless, no choice about it — except that one time I probably coulda done without lighting up Vanko. Maybe. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, yeah I’m reckless, but nothing I can’t handle. You gotta have a little more faith, trust, and pixie dust in me.”

Rogers’ brows furrow as he clearly misses the reference, but he does sigh in defeat, grumbling, “Fine, Tony, but you don’t have to take such risks  _all_ the time. Maybe curb some of the recklessness for my poor heart’s sake?”

Tony snickers. “Aww, Cap, didn’t know you cared so much!”

“Look at that!” Clint bounces over, slinging an arm around Steve’s chest and Tony’s shoulders, crowing in delight. “Stark and Rogers,  _compromising_ and, dare I say it, getting along! Will wonders never cease!” Clint gasps in mock amazement, and Tony elbows him in the ribs, relishing in the small yelp his action elicits.

“Mean,” Clint pouts, dragging them both back over to the living room. “Now come on, I wanna watch Dog Cops!”

Tony groans. “Barton...” his tone of warning goes entirely ignored as Clint asks JARVIS to cue up an episode. “As the injured party, shouldn’t I get to decide what we watch?” He’s aware that he sounds like a sulky, petulant child, but he’s keeping his comments mostly to himself, and he still settles down on the couch anyway, leaning back to allow his ribs to stretch comfortably and settle. Over Barton’s head, he can see Steve silently mouthing  _Dog Cops?_ at him, and he just grimaces and shakes his head.

Maybe having to compromise for these people won’t be the worst thing in the world, is his last thought, as he drifts to sleep not even a full ten minutes into the episode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💜


	21. Issues - #29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“Who said vigilantism isn’t a healthy coping mechanism?”’
> 
> Set: post-Avengers  
> No pairings. TeamVengers, sort of.

His tone is completely exasperated. “Tony, you cannot just eradicate entire corporations when they haven’t  done  anything!”

Tony actually growls at that, just a little, trying to tamp down on the sudden sharp bitterness and anger flooding his system. They’re having this fight in the living room, with the others looking on but mercifully staying quiet for the moment, and Tony does  _not_ want to trigger a Hulk-out this early. Avengers tower had barely  _just_ been restored to its former splendor as it was.

“Spangles, whatever  _-whoever-_ is the primary goal and face of this new shadow organization,  _they cannot be up to any good_ if they are willing to work with Justin fucking Hammer! Hammer’s a known villain, and he’s not subtle on the best of days. Jesus, just because Hammer hasn’t technically unleashed hell  _this_ week  is not an excuse for me to sit on my ass and do nothing! I’d rather nip this new threat in the bud before it really gets the chance to grow wings and get off the ground! Or I’d at least like to investigate  _my way_ , because you’re not exactly subtle either, Spangles. You’ve never met a problem you didn’t like to punch your way out of, and this threat assessment’s gonna require a little more finesse. Besides, Hammer’s  _my_ problem, not yours. He really should still be incarcerated  _anyway_ , but that kinda slipped my notice due to Prince Crazypants of Asgard and his personal army of flying monkeys!” He cuts off angrily, aware that he’s rambling, but he has never really put all his issues with Captain America to bed, and now they’re rising up in ugly waves. “Besides, Cap,” he continues, seeing Steve’s mouth open and barreling on before the good Captain can get a word in edgewise. “Besides, I’m not good with clean up duty, Cap. I’d rather neutralize the threat preemptively  _before_ we have another full-scale invasion on our hands. Let it never be said that Tony Stark doesn’t learn from his mistakes.” Dimly, he hears a snort from the other side of the room.  _Barton_ , his mind helpfully supplies. “Anyway, Cap— “ his voice is quieter now, more raw. He swallows. “Anyway. Let’s not pretend that you wouldn’t be on a one-man mission to destroy every remaining HYDRA base on the planet, if there was any way to find the sneaky fuckers.” He stares intently at Rogers.

“I— “ He sees the moment Rogers gives in, posture slumping less than gracefully. “Okay Tony. Our morals may not exactly line up, but... be careful, yeah?”

“Always, Cap. Thanks,” he allows. He figures he doesn’t have to be a total ass. “Besides, Cap! Who said vigilantism isn’t a healthy coping mechanism for all the shit we’ve been through in the last few months?” He grins, bright and cheerful, and is gratified when Rogers actually cracks a playful smirk of his own.

Huh. Maybe his issues won’t be such a big deal after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love.


	22. Out, damned spot! - #48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ‘“She looked down at her clean hands and wondered if the blood she felt would ever go away.”’
> 
> Or: Red in her ledger
> 
> Set: Unspecified in timeline but post Avengers  
> Pairings:Tony/Natasha if you squint. But more friendshippy than anything else.

She looked down at her clean hands and wondered if the blood she felt would ever go away.

“It never does.”

Natasha looks up sharply at the voice unexpectedly cutting into her musings to find Stark striding across the common room floor heading towards the bar.

She doesn’t say anything in return until he quirks one eyebrow, silently offering her a drink. “Vodka martini. Dirty,” is what she finally says, her green eyes practically smoking, just daring him to make a pervy joke about her choice of drink.

A corner of his mouth kicks up but thankfully for the proper arrangement of his internal organs, he elects not to respond verbally, just finishes mixing her drink and pouring his own before moving over to sit beside her on the couch.

“The hands— “ he nods over at hers. “They never stop feeling saturated with the red of our choices.”

She wants to say something sharp, something cutting, but the look in his eyes stops her.  Merchant of Death,  she recalls. She wonders how she forgot that — she’s the one who wrote the personality profile on him. She wonders how thick the layer of red on his skin is.

_“Out, damned spot!”_ His joke is slightly lame, but she allows herself to smile anyway. It’s a surprisingly fitting reference - Macbeth had been full of madness, betrayal, delusions, grandeur, horror — everything their lives actually are.

Yes, Natasha decided as she sipped her drink and leaned into Tony almost imperceptibly, feeling him as a solid presence at her side. Yes, it was an apt reference, because she’d become an Avenger precisely to try and scrub her sins out of her ledger, and she’d be doing it forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a little love


End file.
